Page 18 of Ruthless Lullaby

People often say that twins share an unbreakable bond, that they're two halves of a single soul. But I think it’s more than that. I think it is something most people can’t truly comprehend. The connection between twins runs deeper than words can describe. It's something that transcends the boundaries of ordinary relationships.

Like Emily and I. We were that set of twins who communicated in a language of our own, a secret code that only we could understand. We really were one.

That’s enough, Mindy.

These dark thoughts are not helping right now.

All movement on the road has ceased. The cars in front of me are barely inching forward before coming to a complete halt. We are at a standstill. The street is packed with vehicles, tightly lined up, stretching as far as I can see.

Dammit!

At least my mind is no longer consumed by thoughts of Emily, but rather by a frustration at this unexpected delay. I grab my work phone and dial reception to let someone in the office know that I'll be late for the meeting and that they can start without me.

“The number you have dialed is not recognized.”

I frown. I try a few other numbers but the answer is the same.“The number you have dialed is not recognized.”

What the hell?

Maintenance of the company phone system?

On a Monday morning?

The cars in front of me finally start moving again, and I can't make any more phone calls. After having spent more than an hour in rush hour traffic, I finally arrive at the building of Global Media.

I step out of my car and quickly stride towards the entrance of the office building, my heels clicking against thepavement. I take out my access card and swipe it against the sensor.

It doesn't work.

My brow furrows in confusion; this has never happened before. Maybe it's just a glitch, so I try again. Still no luck. I scrutinize the card- maybe the chip is damaged? I give it one more swipe, hoping for a beep or any sign of life, but the card remains unresponsive. It can't be dead, can it? I try once more hoping for a different result - no luck.

I scan the expansive lounge, expecting to find some people, but all I see is an eerie stillness. Not a single soul. Chairs sit vacant, and the silence is only punctuated by the faint hum of the air conditioning.

What the hell?

I’m just about to fish out my phone again and try another number when I hear a noise coming from the direction of the elevators. I turn to see the doors opening and I see the receptionist lady stepping out.

Finally!

A real human being who works at Global Media!

"Clara," I tell her. "Good morning. Could you please check my card? It doesn't seem to be working. Looks like there's a glitch in the system."

"Oh, sure," she says, smiling. She fiddles with it under the counter, her face somewhat cloudy. "Let me try again," she mumbles. Then she looks up. "Ms. Williams," she says, "I'm afraid your card has been blocked."

I stare at her dumbly. "Blocked? Are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so," she repeats. "Have you checked your emails? Usually, when this happens, they send out an email with instructions about what to do next."

Of course I didn't check my emails. Mom's cancer and the breakup with Maurice consumed my thoughts all weekend. Not to mention that I was too afraid to see if someone responded to my photos.

I stop and freeze.The photos. The damn nudes I accidentally sent to my jerk boss instead of my boyfriend who broke up with me since. Probably my stupidest mistake ever. Maybe that hassomethingto do with this.

Oh, dear God.

Suddenly I'm grateful that the building is empty and everyone from management is stuck in a boring meeting, because from now on, anyone I come across here, has probably seen my breasts. And my pussy. My entire naked body. And heard me cry as I shake from my own orgasm.

Oh, Mother Earth, why won’t you open up and swallow me?

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